


Betrayals

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hate Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5948107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke comes back to Arkadia after 3x03, but Bellamy isn't quite ready to forgive her.</p><p>(I'd call this speculative, but there's a 0.0% chance of them having angry sex in 3x04 or 3x05, so it's not.  Not really.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Betrayals

**Author's Note:**

> From an anon request for angry sex.

Miller knocked hesitantly on Bellamy’s door jamb and he looked up from the map he’d staring at for hours.  Ice Nation was camped on either side of the route to Polis, an unmistakable threat.   _ We can isolate you in a second _ , it said, and it made his hands tremble with rage just to think about it.  “Clarke’s on her way from Polis,” Miller said, walking into Bellamy’s compartment.  “Thought I’d give you the heads up.”  Bellamy grunted and turned back to the map, wondering if there was a way to flank them from the outside.   _ We have better weapons, but they have the numbers. _  “When she radioed, she asked to speak to you.”

 

“I bet she did.”

 

“She’ll be in the Council Room in about an hour.”

 

“Good for her.”

 

Miller sighed.  “I’ll tell them you’re not coming.”

 

Bellamy didn’t turn around as his friend’s footsteps faded away.  Two weeks ago, the news that Clarke was coming would have made the tension in his shoulders release, but now the mere mention of her name set his stomach churning.  He shoved those thoughts aside and turned his attention back to the battle plans.

 

He managed to forget her— or forget her as much as he ever could— for the next few hours.   _ If we can lure them down near the river, we can cut off their escape and we would have the high ground _ .  He mentally ran through a list of decoys they could use, wondering what sort of bait would be best for the Ice Nation, when someone cleared her throat behind him.

 

His blood turned to electricity and he ground his jaw together.  “You want something?”  He refused to turn around— she hadn’t earned that.

 

“I thought you were coming to the Council Meeting,” Clarke said.

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“So I noticed.  I wanted you there, though.  You’re— you’ve got good instincts.  We could have used your input.”

 

“Guess you’ll just have to go without.”

 

“Bellamy—”

 

“Did you want something?” he growled.  The map swam in front of his eyes and he heard her close the door behind her and walk towards his bed.

 

“I wanted to talk to you.  Explain why I stayed.”  Springs creaked as she perched on his bed, and he lost it.

 

“Get up.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t sit there.”   _ Gina _ used to do that— come and sit on his bed while he went over guard rotations and assigned mapping runs, her boots haphazardly left on the floor while she read and he worked in companionable silence.

 

Clarke didn’t get to sit where Gina used to be, not after what she did.

 

Clarke stood and he finally looked at her, only to find her face pained and confused.  She didn’t get to feel that either, in his opinion.  “I had to stay,” she started, but Bellamy pushed back from his desk and towered over her.

 

“No.  You didn’t.”

 

“I had to keep—”

 

“Someone else could have stayed with Lexa.  Someone else could have made her keep her word.  Kane.  Your mom.  Me.  Hell, Octavia speaks their language better than any of us.  So no, you didn’t.”

 

“I did,” she insisted.

 

“Stop lying,” he hissed.  “You didn’t want to come home, that’s all.  You’re scared, so you ran.  Again.”

 

“You don’t know what it’s like.”

 

Bellamy turned his back on her and curled his hands into fists.  “I don’t know what it’s like?” he said, low and dangerous.  “In case you’ve forgotten, I was there too.  Everyone that died in Mount Weather, I killed them, too.  Both times.”

 

“Bellamy—”

 

“No.  You don’t get to do this.  You don’t get to run away and leave me behind and then come back and expect that I’ll just carry on like you didn’t leave me.”   _ Twice _ , his brain added.   _ You left me twice. _  He rounded on her, and against his efforts fear leaked into his voice.  “They’re  _ dangerous _ , Clarke.  They killed—they killed good people.  For no reason.”

 

“Raven told me,” Clarke said gently.  Her eyes were shiny but she wasn’t crying.  Not yet.  “I’m sorry about Gina.  I didn’t know her, but—”

 

“Don’t you dare talk about her,” he snarled.  “I left her behind to save you, and now she’s dead and you’re one of them.”

 

“Fuck you,” Clarke snapped, and he recognized the anger on her face from those first days on the ground.

 

Anger and hate and fear roiled inside of him, each emotion hitting him like a wave, with relief and guilt in equal measure between each one because  _ she’s safe _ felt like a betrayal to Gina’s memory but his body insisted on feeling it every time he saw her.  It was like being back in that tunnel with the bounty hunter and seeing her bound and gagged but  _ alive _ , and then he would remember that  _ she’s alive and Gina’s dead because you chose her _ , and the anger would hit him all over again and he would see Clarke’s face in Grounder warpaint, telling him she was choosing  _ her _ over him.  He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare at her and wonder if she knew how it felt to be left behind over and over again.

 

But then he was kissing her and he wasn’t entirely sure why, only that it felt good.  He nipped harshly at her lip and her arms encircled him.  She bit him back, her nails clawing frantically at his clothes and then his skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.  She took off her shirt— the one that seemed to shout  _ grounder _ at him— and then he tore off the thin tunic she wore underneath, his rage mixing with desire as he pressed his bare chest against hers and sank his teeth into the place where her neck met her shoulder.

 

Clarke tipped her head back and groaned, her hands working his belt and pants to push them down near his knees along with his boxers.  He shoved her back onto his bed and nearly tripped in his haste to kick off his boots and the rest of his clothes while Clarke shimmied out of her Grounder-issued leggings.

 

Naked, she almost looked like the Clarke he remembered.

 

He couldn’t let himself stop and think, so he covered her with his body and kissed her hard, her hair soft under his touch but wrong, somehow.  He let out a strangled laugh that was more like a sob when he realized he’d been expecting Gina’s curls, not Clarke’s waves, but then Clarke was cupping his face in her hands and kissing him and he let Gina go because apparently he couldn’t stop betraying her.

 

His fingertips dug into the flesh of Clarke’s hips and her center was wet against him, so he covered himself in her arousal and thrust inside of her as hard as he could.  Clarke braced a hand against the metal wall and nodded at him, her jaw set and her eyes burning into him, so he thrusted once more, hard and fast, because she felt better than he’d ever imagined but right now he couldn’t admit he’d ever imagined it, so he kept moving, his hand roaming her soft skin.  He tweaked her pebbled nipple and she bit her lower lip, her hands anchored around his waist hold him close.  “Harder,” she commanded, but Bellamy didn’t take orders from her— not any more.  So he slowed down until he was pulling out of her inch by inch and pressing back in with deliberate movements.  Anger flashed in her eyes and she curled her leg around his hips, trying to urge him on but he held back, needing her to feel it the way he did.  

 

But then the anger in her eyes started fading, replaced by a sadness that hit him in his gut.  He gave in and started pounding into her, over and over until she pinned her hand between them and touched herself until her walls clenched around him, tight and perfect.  She was shaking with the force of her peak and Bellamy buried his face in her hair, breathing her in as his own climax unspooled.

 

He stopped moving, still hovering over her with her leg wrapped around his waist, and looked down.  There was wetness on her cheeks and probably on his, and there was so much unsaid in her eyes.  It hurt to look at her but he couldn’t pull out, not yet, so he lowered himself to her chest and laid down.

 

She knitted her fingers in his sweaty hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head and there they stayed until he’d grown soft inside of her and their skin cooled.

 

He shifted to her side and fought against the tidal wave of guilt that threatened to drown him because this bed was where he first was inside of Gina, and now she was dead and Clarke was in her place (except it had always felt like a betrayal to Clarke when he was with Gina and now he was with Clarke and he  _ knew _ it was a betrayal of Gina, but Gina was dead and Clarke was alive and there was a traitorous part of him that was glad he hadn’t lost her too).  Clarke trailed her fingers down his side to the gash on his thigh— Jackson had taken out his stitches last week (he wouldn’t let Abby anywhere near her because the concern on her face threatened to break him), but a harsh scar remained.  Clarke was careful not to touch the wound and tears tracked down her cheeks again.  “I never wanted to hurt you,” she whispered hoarsely.  “I was trying to keep you safe.”

 

“You’re not safe there,” he rasped.  “And I can’t lose you.”  It was what had driven him to risk his life for her, only for her to throw it back in his face.  He couldn’t lose her, but she could lose him and that was how it was always going to be.

 

She brushed a curl back from his forehead and smiled sadly.  “I am safe there.  I promise.  I’m doing this for you.”

 

“For all of us,” he corrected, because he knew her better than he knew himself.

 

“For all of you,” she agreed.  “But also for you.  I can’t lose you either.”

 

“So you’re going back.”

 

“I have to.  I gave Lexa my word.”

 

“Like that means anything to her,” he spat, anger slowly filling the spaces where his guilt drained away.

 

“It means something to me,” she replied, steely.  “I gave her my word.  I have to honor it.”

 

“Then honor it.”  He rolled to his side, facing the wall, and waited for her to gather her things.  She left quietly, and even though he knew she was crying he couldn’t bring himself to turn around, because if he did, he’d lose control again.  So he stared at the cold grey wall until his door clicked shut, and then he pulled his clothes back on and got back to work.

 

There were people counting on him.

  
  



End file.
